He Likes The Quiet
by tielan
Summary: There are days when John just wants a little peace and quiet. Unfortunately, the universe rarely obliges.


**NOTES:** Written for the LJ SGA flashfic community's Amnesty challenge - the keyword is 'ESP'**  
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**He Likes The Quiet**

There are days when John Sheppard just wants things to stay quiet.

Unfortunately for him, fate rarely obliges.

John makes it to shelter one second shy of the shot.

The energy burst earths itself harmlessly in the damp wood and he curses. Damn Gennii and their damn agents. Some days it seems there's nowhere that the Atlantis expedition can go that the Gennii haven't already been. All negotiations, trade, diplomacy - all of it - has to be executed in the knowledge that they could turn sour any minute because the culture have sold them out to the Gennii.

It's beginning to seriously annoy him.

Across from him, Teyla fits neatly behind another tree trunk, but there's no sign of their team-mates that John can see. "Where are Rodney and Ronon?"

"Headed back to the jumper," she answers. "I thought it best that there were fewer of us here, and the smoke was a useful screen."

It's what he would have done in the same circumstances.

John nods as he fumbles with his flak vest and brings out a smoke grenade. He pulls the pin and tosses it in the direction from which the shots have come. A moment later the firing stops and the shouts begin. "I think now is a good time to follow them."

Teyla nods once, then leads off. They pick their way through the forest, keeping low in case someone decides to fire randomly into the smoke. John has no intention of dying by accident - he has no intention of dying at all.

Stumbling into the Gennii party is both accidental and stupid. Fortunately for him and Teyla, it's not fatal.

Their first shot skims his shoulder and he feels the heat of it as it passes by. Then he's got his sidearm out and firing and so does Teyla. The shots carry and they have zero visibility, but their firing arcs take care of everyone ahead of them.

Another tree shelters them - at least it will for as long as it takes one of the Gennii to circle around. John counted at least eight people in Gennii military uniform before he shot two of them.

"Two are down," Teyla says. John's about to ask if it's his two or two of hers when she qualifies. "Mine."

"Then we're even. I got two and saw eight."

Her expression hints at a smile. "Then that leaves at least two each." And she peers around the tree trunk and begins firing - not randomly, the way John would have, but with measured shots. He goes for the random firing arc out the other side of the tree, then ducks back around to safety when an energy blast spins out of the smoke.

There's a knot in the tree that's digging into his back, and he shifts, trying to find a way to ease its pressure. Finally, he gives up and starts looking at exit options. "Know the way out of here?" John asks as Teyla presses her shoulder blades into the tree trunk beside him. Frankly, he doesn't have a clue where they are. 'Somewhere in a forest' about describes it.

"I believe it is that way." One hand indicates the direction of the 'jumper.

"You _believe_?" He holds up his hands when she gives him a look inquiring if he could do better. "Okay. You lead, I'm on your six."

Teyla nods and waits for the firing to stop. In the next break she's up and moving, a darker shadow in the smoke. He was ready, alerted by the way she tensed beside him before springing from their shelter, and follows her off to the right.

He doesn't question how she knows which way back to the 'jumper amidst the smoke and endless tree trunks. Unlike the rest of John's team, Teyla grew up in forests and woods. She's forgotten more about tracking and marking than the others have collectively learned - even Ronon, whose memories of Sateda are of an industrialised world not so different from Earth's cities. His foresting skills were developed on the run; hers were taught to her as a child.

Leaf litter shifts beneath John's feet, and he follows in Teyla's wake. The scent of damp wood and wet earth rises around them, putting him in mind of other adrenaline-fuelled escapes.

This is getting to be a habit.

There are shouts and voices in the smoke. It's difficult to see more than a yard ahead. As far as John's concerned, he's running blind; only Teyla knows where they're headed.

At first, they run in a straight line through the woods. Not such a wise thing to do if anyone saw them leave - better to zig-zag, a more difficult path to follow. Just as he begins extending his steps to catch up to Teyla and warn her, she changes direction, heading hard left with a glance behind to be sure he's following.

From there, their path zigs and zags as much as he could have wished - if John had the faintest idea where they're headed. "Do you know where we're going?"

"The 'jumper is this way."

He doesn't ask. He just trusts and follows. Sometimes you have to.

It's a trust well rewarded when they reach the edge of the forest - and the empty place where the 'jumper lies cloaked.

Ronon steps out of the 'jumper's cloaking, and Rodney follows him a moment later. "Told you," the Satedan says smugly.

"All right," Rodney snaps.

"Rodney," John says as Teyla passes them on her way into the 'jumper. "Don't tell me you were worried!"

Rodney gives him a look of absolute death and John smirks and heads for the pilot seat.

They wouldn't have left that planet faster if the Wraith were on their tail.

--

The showers aren't exactly quiet, but at least there's nobody shooting at them.

"You know," Rodney says as they're in their shower stalls, "we were tracking you with the puddlejumper's detection system and you were following a very irregular path."

John tries to ignore the persistent voice of his team-mate over the hot water and shower gel, but it's not easy.

"Sheppard?"

A snort emerges from the cubicle on the other side of John. John can just imagine the expression on Ronon's face and rolls his eyes. "In case it's escaped you, Rodney, we're taking _showers_."

"And? Some of my best thinking has happened while I'm in the shower." There's no substitute for the tone of voice produced by Rodney when he's offended.

"McKay."

John agrees with Ronon. "Isn't this something to be discussed when we're not trying to get half the dirt of that planet off us?"

"It's not a discussion. I was expounding on a theory--"

"Until today, I never wished I was a woman."

That stops Rodney with great effectiveness. In fact, it silences not only John, but also the other cubicles where several other guys are presently showering. There's a snigger from someone, quickly silenced. Ronon's not the kind of guy you laugh at until you know where he's going.

"You want to be a _woman_?" Rodney demands. John can imagine the alarmed look dawning in blue eyes.

"At least the women's showers would be quiet."

_Now_ it's okay to chuckle or grin. John smirks as he scrubs himself down. The silence from the other side of the wall is eloquent.

Of course, Rodney sulks - he wouldn't be Rodney if he didn't. Then again, he isn't finished either. It ain't over until Rodney McKay says so.

"What I was trying to say before was that you avoided four search groups on that run back to the 'jumper," he tells John out in the locker rooms.

The number makes John pause as he collects his shaving stuff. "Four? We had that many after us?"

Ronon arches a brow. "You didn't know?"

"No."

"How'd you avoid them?"

"I didn't," John says. "Teyla did."

Ronon quirks an eyebrow. "Good instincts."

"Well, it's a bit more than just instinct in Teyla," Rodney says. "The Wraith DNA in her makeup seems to give her something that's borderline telepathy. A kind of...ESP. Except more scientific."

"More scientific?" Ronon is in the middle of hauling on his leathers, but still manages to give Rodney the eyebrow.

"Well, I don't believe in all that mystic stuff that surrounds the concepts of precognition and ESP." Rodney still manages to sound officious while clad in nothing but a towel. "But in practical terms, Teyla does seem to have something that very closely resembles such a thing - although her use of it is almost purely at an instinctive level..."

Naturally, being Rodney, he goes into examples of exactly what constitutes 'purely at an instinctive level', and John half-tunes out as he begins his shave.

In the last couple of months - since the siege, actually - Teyla's been acting less like the 'local guide' she was when they first started this expedition, and more like a military-trained 2IC might. Of course, she's not bound by the regs the same way the military personnel are, but that's not a bad thing to John's thinking.

John once heard it said that the best 2ICs are the ones to whom you hardly have to give orders because they already have a pretty good idea of what you're thinking - a superior officer sixth sense.

Not that John's had a lot of experience with 2ICs. But Teyla has the whole 'sixth sense' down pat - possibly more literally than the speaker back on Earth had any idea when he made the statement. And does a good job of managing Rodney and Ronon when the guys are getting fractious. Besides which, John enjoys working with Teyla - not least because she can save his ass as well as kick it.

As he finishes his shave, John notes that Rodney's still going. Ronon's trimming his beard in the next basin over, and listening about as much as John - which is to say, not at all.

"...which was actually somewhat counterproductive to the situation--"

Enough is enough. John pauses as he rinses off his razor blade. "Rodney." He speaks loud enough to get Rodney's attention - which means talking loud enough to echo through the tiled room.

"What?"

"Can this wait?"

"Well, I'm thinking of it now."

John glares. "Then think of it now and say it later."

Rodney subsides, grumbling and John catches Ronon's smirk as he turns back and shakes his head. It probably _would_ be quieter showering with Teyla.

There are days when John Sheppard just wants things to be quiet.

Evidently, today is not one of these days.

- **fin** -


End file.
